


In The Darkness, We Don't Need Light

by InfiniteInMystery



Series: 2019's GinZura Week [4]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Brief reflection of past choices, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M, Nightmares, No progress, Vague story-telling, You need to reflect to understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInMystery/pseuds/InfiniteInMystery
Summary: A brief moment of comfort for the troubles not voiced.





	In The Darkness, We Don't Need Light

**Author's Note:**

> Ginzura Week, Day 4:  
Festival/Ghosts/Scars

In his dream, Katsura was running through the night. As fast as he could, his heavy footfalls echoed in his ears as he bolted through the silence with noisy heaves. He was running up and down the long aisles of an abandoned festival, the lanterns still glowing orange and swaying above in the gentle wind like bad omens. All of the stalls were lit up like they had been full of life only moments ago, but they were void of life now. Death hung in the air.

_Death. _Katsura was sure of it.

The stalls were saturated with blood all around him, the prizes in the stalls soaked through and dripping. Either from their owners or those who unfortunately drew too close, Katsura wasn't sure. But the blood spray swished back and forth, the arc of many swords forcefully taking back what was once theirs. The smell of blood clogged his senses, so thick in the air and vivid that he could taste it while it noisily _squelched _beneath his shoes. _Like moths to the light, they were all __burned__._

He was on the verge of hyperventilating, eyes wide open, searching. His war attire was torn and covered in blood, rivulets tracking down his face and stinging his eyes as he desperately hunted for his missing friends. Was it his own blood tracking down his face? He wasn't sure, couldn't remember how he had gotten here and didn't really want to either. There was no pain besides the ache in his chest as he wheezed, never stopping as he scoured the festival grounds a second time. No pain besides the bite of tears in his eyes, already knowing that his friends were all gone. _Sakamoto, __Takasugi, Gintoki..._

In his dreams, Katsura was always running. Runaway Kotarou, running from the battlefield, the police, and his more personal problems alike. He was always the one left behind, was always the one standing on the sidelines keeping quiet. Was always alone and suffering while watching everyone he loved suffer more.

Shivering, Katsura came to a halt in the middle of the aisle, eyes locked on a food stall brighter than the others, the lamplight glowing florescent white instead of yellow-orange like the rest. Slowly, he moved towards it cautiously, unsurprised to see spoiled desserts and bloody pastries – most of them Gintoki's favorites. He peered over the counter with a hand to his chest, trying to reign in his breath like he already knew what he would see. _Like moths to the light, they were all burned._

A sharp gasp choked out of him. He flew back from the stall, both hands over his mouth as the guilt washed over him hard enough to knock him to his knees. On the other side of the counter, he'd caught the barest glimpse of more blood on the ground and long pale hair, foggy green eyes wide and accusing.

Katsura woke up with a start, sitting up so fast that he was instantly winded. He slapped a hand to his forehead as he swayed, a heavy hand suddenly snapping onto his right forearm. He flinched, thinking for the briefest second that a corpse had grabbed him, but then he remembered where he was. Who he was with.

Beside him, Gintoki was already sitting up. If Katsura wasn't struggling to breathe, he might have found it funny that Gintoki already had his bokuto in his hand, the fingers of his left hand curled tightly around Katsura's arm.

“Hey, I'm alright.” Katsura said, exhaling heavily and pulling his hand free of Gintoki's grip. He placed a hand on Gintoki's chest for his own comfort, catching his breath to the steady beat of Gintoki's heart. “I'm alright.”

“Are you sure?” Gintoki asked. He huffed too, dropping the wooden sword and rubbing at his tired eyes. “You okay? Nightmare?”

“It's fine.” Katsura said, throwing the blanket off of him and slowly standing up. He swayed in the dark, but his head was steadier, breath evening out. Shivering, he pulled his yukata tighter around him. “Just need some water.”

Gintoki didn't respond.

Katsura quietly slid open Gintoki's bedroom door, padding past Kagura's closet on silent feet to avoid disturbing her. Sadaharu momentarily perked his ears up at Katsura moving by, but he did not stir past the twitch of his nose, didn't even bother to open his eyes.

In the kitchen, Katsura helped himself to a glass of water in the dark, more than familiar with Gintoki's chaotic cupboards and less-than-logical sorting habits. He found a cup and quickly filled it with lukewarm water, shakily taking a sip, trying to forget for a moment the war and Shouyou and all the shit that came after.

He settled his thoughts and was able to finish the glass before Gintoki decided to join him.

“That was quite the nightmare.” Gintoki said, his voice soft and hesitant as it always was with sensitive topics. He leaned against his counter with crossed arms, close enough that Katsura could sway into his warmth if he wanted to. Gintoki's face was turned towards Katsura, tired eyes fond. He leaned in like he wanted to kiss him, but hesitated at the last second. “Want to talk about it before we go back to bed?”

Katsura considered the ghosts of his past, the ghosts they shared, and the demons they kept hidden to themselves like those particular scars on their arms. _Do you want to know my nightmares about Shouyou? I can only imagine yours. I can only imagine..._ Katsura closed his eyes. Forced his thoughts silent, tried to stop comparing himself to everyone he knew. _They have it worse._

“Do _you _ever talk about the nightmares?” Katsura finally asked, already knowing the answer. It was the fastest way to avoid bringing up the topic. They didn't need to discuss it, even if they eventually should. When it came to nightmares, Gintoki had more of them, there was no denying that. Somewhere out in space, Katsura knew Takasugi suffered from them too. “Gintoki, it's alright. I must have drunk too much lat night.”

Gintoki snorted at that. “You only had one cup.”

“One cup is enough.” Katsura said. He looked up, to Gintoki. He reached out, his hand gently siding up Gintoki's arm. “And _one_ nightmare is okay.”

Gintoki glanced him over once, contemplating the double meaning behind that last statement. He looked him over extra carefully before huffing in defeat. Gintoki leaned forward, giving him that gentle kiss. “Okay.” He didn't say anything else. There was still a barrier there, a wall Gintoki liked to hide behind and Katsura couldn't blame him.

One day. One day they would confess the ghosts that haunted them relentlessly as well as the sins they had committed, but tonight was not that night.

When they both stood up to go back to bed, Katsura reached out. Linked his fingers with Gintoki's own like he should have years ago, and when Gintoki glanced back at him, Katsura only smiled in that fond way Shouyou used to. “I'm not alone, Gintoki.” _Not anymore._

Understanding, Gintoki smiled and squeezed his hand tighter. He glanced away quickly, leading them back through the dark. “I'm not alone either.”

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I'm really late.


End file.
